


I Want You

by chronicopheliac



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ball Gag, Hotel Sex, Kink Negotiation, Loud Sex, M/M, Noisy Will, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Prostate Massage, Sexual Tension, a well oiled Will, sensual massage, sexual massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 19:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6390541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I received a prompt on tumblr: Will is loud and I mean very loud. Like, so loud that when they do in the hotel they get complaints. Hannibal acts annoyed but he secretly loves it.</p><p>I meant to do a short pwp kinda thing, but it turned into a multi-chapter thing. Yay!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Want You Only For Myself

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic is from Ich Will Dich/I Want You by Wumpscut. The chapter titles are various lyrics from the song. If you look it up, let me just warn you that the song has audio clips from porn in it, so make sure you're in a place where it's okay to listen to that sort of thing. XD
> 
> This was seriously supposed to be just porn, but then I dunno, I was typing and it was taking a while to get to the porn, and now this is like 3 chapters 'cause I felt like dividing it up.

Being on the run with Will turns out to be quite an experience. Hannibal had imagined a number of scenarios during his… sabbatical at the BSHCI, but he isn’t surprised to find that the reality exceeds all of his expectations.

The first few weeks were a challenge for them both, with their extensive injuries and need to be careful about being seen, but for Hannibal most of the challenge was overshadowed by the monumental pleasure of just being with Will. Even when Will turns out to be a terrible patient (though, in retrospect, Hannibal knows he should have expected  _ that _ ), Hannibal delights in every grouse and attempt to push him away. Dying hadn’t dulled him one bit.

When they were well enough to come out of ‘deep’ hiding and begin their journey to get much further from Uncle Jack, Hannibal had arranged for false identities for greater ease of travel. He knows that he must be patient just a little while longer for the finer things in life, but he will  _ not _ be sleeping in cars or under bridges if he can help it. Credit cards are necessary, as are passports and driver’s licenses; paying only in cash has the benefit of not leaving a paper trail, but as a result it tends to prompt suspicion.

Nonetheless, where Hannibal had delighted in Will’s resistance to any kind of medical attention, it seems that Will delights in Hannibal’s aversion to the two- and three-star hotels they’ve had to stay in along the way (to ‘keep a low profile’ according to Will). They’re in an area Will characterizes as ‘buttfuck nowhere,’ and Hannibal asserts that the establishment is more of a hovel than the ‘inn & suites’ it claims to be. They’re in a  _ standard _ room, with two queen beds, a standing shower rather than a tub, and a  _ continental breakfast _ .

Will is still sleeping when Hannibal leaves to peruse the so-called breakfast, and he finds it woefully lacking. He has to make do with what they have, though, so he piles a couple of bagels (and puts some  _ packets _ of cream cheese and plastic cutlery in his pocket), some fruit and what he assumes are pastries onto a plate balanced on one hand, and holding two styrofoam cups of terrible hot tea in the other.

He is relieved to find Will awake and dressed upon his return, as he has no free hands to open the door himself and must use his elbow to knock. Entering the room, the various unpleasant smells coming from mediocre food and cheap linens are somewhat muted by the much more enticing smell of Will fresh from the shower, and Hannibal doesn’t try to hold back when he hones in on it, leaning in as Will turns away to get his fill.

“What is it with you and smelling me? Am I sick again?” Will asks as he settles down on his bed, taking up his tablet to browse something or other.

“Not at all, I was merely inhaling something much more agreeable than the various odours assaulting my senses in this charming place,” Hannibal’s eyes crinkle with a hint of mirth as he offers the plate to Will, setting down the tea on their shared night stand between the beds. Will grabs a bagel and an apple, lifting them in a gesture of thanks, smiling in a way that Hannibal has come to understand as Will’s Reckoning smile.

Will is  _ really _ enjoying every moment of unguarded discomfort he sees in Hannibal.

“Well it can’t be worse than my aftershave which, mystery of mysteries, I seem to have misplaced,” Will punctuates his words with a crunch as he bites into his apple.

“How peculiar. Perhaps it may be found among my bespoke shirts that I can’t seem to find,” Hannibal replies, sitting on his own bed and cutting into his bagel with a plastic knife.

Will’s smile turns serene, projecting absolute innocence. “Good thing, too, since it’s your expensive taste that led Mason Verger to you in Italy.”

“You say that as though I had not intended to be found.”

“Ah, yes, I guess one of your trains of thought must have missed me too much,” is Will’s flippant response.

“I missed you terribly, yes,” agrees Hannibal, before he can stop himself. Not that he cares to try all that hard, anymore. Nonetheless, he distracts himself with spreading cream cheese on his bagel. A grunt from Will interrupts him, and he raises an eyebrow in Will’s general direction.

“Don’t say shit like that to me,” Will says with an uncertain tone, tossing his apple core across the room toward the trash bin - it misses.

With a sigh, Hannibal gets up and tosses the apple core into the bin. “It’s the truth. You have said before that you didn’t want me to lie to you,” he turns to Will from where he stands, looking at him through the fringe of his hair that has fallen across his eyes.

Will sets the tablet aside and stretches his arms up, hissing in pain as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. A crease forms between his eyebrows when he drops his arms to his sides, and he takes a deep breath that expands his ribcage, causing his t-shirt to ride up, just a little. Hannibal averts his gaze and returns to his bed, taking a delicate sip of tepid, awful tea.

“Yes,” Will says after a moment. “But I… I’m not sure I can take  _ that _ kind of truth, from you.”

“Why does it trouble you so, Will?”

There is hesitation in Will’s eyes as he sits up with a wince, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to face Hannibal. He elects to stare at Hannibal’s chin. “It’s-- It doesn’t trouble me, I just find it…” he trails off. His shoulder is still bothering him, and he rubs at it as he struggles to find words that best convey his meaning.

Hannibal takes pity on him and changes the subject. “You haven’t been exercising your shoulder,” he tries instead. He knows it’s not that much more comfortable a topic, but Will seems to appreciate it anyway.

“No,” Will admits. “But it hasn’t been easy to find an effective routine with all this moving around.”

“That is a terrible excuse, Will, and you know it,” Hannibal abandons his tea on the night stand and moves to sit beside Will on his bed, grabbing his arm at the elbow, taking care to examine the movement with as gentle a motion as he can manage. Will winces again anyway.

“I can at least give you some massage therapy. Lay flat on your stomach,” Hannibal says, and he makes it sound like a command. Will complies with minimal fuss, making a point to roll his eyes in Hannibal’s direction as he removes his shirt and lays down. “Good,” Hannibal murmurs, smoothing one hand down the length of Will’s back before getting up. Will’s skin is very warm, but Hannibal can see some goosebumps forming down his arms. “I believe I have some massage oil in my bag.”

“Of course you do,” Will huffs, and though he can’t see it, Hannibal hears a smile shape Will’s words.

The oil is easy enough to locate, and when he returns he finds that Will has maneuvered himself to the centre of the bed to make room, so Hannibal kneels at Will’s side on the mattress, pouring some oil onto Will’s back.

“Shit, that’s cold!”

As he avoids Will’s flailing limbs, Hannibal laughs. “My apologies, Will, next time I’ll warm it in my hands first.”

“Damn right--unngh--” Will’s response is cut off by a loud groan, with the barest hint of pressure from Hannibal’s hands over his right shoulder blade. Hannibal presses harder, and Will tries to muffle his moaning against the pillow.

Hannibal keeps his focus on Will’s right shoulder at first, until the groaning goes from loud and varied to soft and even. The muscles give way under Hannibal’s fingers, shifting more or less back in place, and so he begins smoothing his hands over Will’s skin to his other shoulder, which sets Will moaning again, louder this time.

“All right?” Hannibal asks, increasing the pressure over a stubborn knot at Will’s trapezius, just below where his shoulder joins his neck.

“Mmnh,” is all Will manages, his body growing more pliant. Hannibal takes it as a yes, and begins working his way down Will’s spine, fingers soothing the knots between each of Will’s ribs. “Ohhhh fuck,” Will gasps, either unable or not caring to muffle himself any longer. Just as Hannibal reaches Will’s iliac crest, they are both startled by banging on the wall, followed by ‘it’s too fuckin’ early for this shit!’

Will is not quite fast enough to hide his flush from Hannibal, burying his head under the pillow, which sends a most appealing shiver down Hannibal’s spine. Will manages sheepish, though muffled,  ‘sorry,’ and Hannibal gives him an affectionate pat between the shoulder blades before standing up. The interruption has startled them both into awkwardness, much to Hannibal’s frustration.

“No need to apologize, Will. However, perhaps it is best if we finish up for now, as it may be a bit too early to be disturbing the neighbours.”

Will doesn’t reply, but Hannibal can see his head nodding from under the pillow, and Hannibal has a thought that had never before crossed his mind: Will Graham is really quite  _ adorable _ .


	2. I Want You With All Your Screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another hotel, another massage, and it gets a little... sexier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is, I'm really really happy so many people seem to be enjoying this. I have most of the next chapter written, and I'm not sure if it's going to end up with an extra chapter or not, but yeah. ENJOY THIS ONE I GUESS??!?!!

They’ve plotted a meandering sort of path across the country to the west coast, where they plan to procure a boat, with the assumption that Uncle Jack would be looking for them along the east coast, or along routes to the southwest to enter Mexico through Texas. At any rate, they’ve made it most of the way through Missouri, arriving quite late at another run-down motel.

A few days of travel hasn’t done either of them any favours, as they took turns driving as far as possible without stopping anywhere overnight, which means little sleep and sore joints even if they weren’t still recovering from various injuries.

When Hannibal exits the dingy shower, he finds Will doing a poor job of trying to hide how sore his shoulders and neck are. He had assumed this would be the case when they were checking in, so Hannibal requested a room that had no occupants on either side, so as to minimize the possibility of disturbing any other guests.

He already has the massage oil in hand and sits next to Will on his bed, giving him a gentle nudge to move over. “On your stomach, please,” Hannibal says without preamble, pouring some oil into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it.

Will stares at Hannibal for several seconds, with no discernible expression, before rolling onto his stomach, tucking his arms under his pillow and resting his head there. The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitches up as he notes that Will already has his shirt off - evidence that Will has also assumed that Hannibal would offer him another massage. Hannibal clears his throat to hide the pleased hum that tries to escape him, which also serves to let Will know that he is about to begin.

Once again Hannibal starts at Will’s right shoulder, repeating the path that he had taken the other night across to the left shoulder, then along Will’s ribs. As expected, every bump and knot along the way draws some enchanting vocalizations out of Will, which Hannibal makes a point of enjoying as it vibrates through Will’s ribcage. Hannibal is only able to keep it up for so long, however; with the position he’s in, the angle he’s maintaining puts a strain on the healing wound in his abdomen and back.

“If it’s acceptable to you, I need to move in order to continue comfortably,” Hannibal says, touching his fingertips to the centre of Will’s back.

Will grunts in assent, and Hannibal swings one leg over so he can straddle Will’s thighs, settling some of his weight just above the back of Will’s knees.

There are no knocks on the wall to interrupt them this time, so Hannibal makes it to Will’s lower back and is careful to keep his initial touches soothing and gentle. He smooths outward to Will’s waist and hips, stopping just shy of his buttocks on each pass, allowing Will’s various ‘aahhs’ and ‘mmyeahs’ to wash over him and settle with a pleasant warmth in his belly. He increases the pressure of his fingers a little, causing Will to jerk his limbs in shock at first, but then Will relaxes into it and lets out a very audible and drawn out sigh.

“Lower,” Will says, voice thick with pleasure. Hannibal’s hands drift lower, but he pauses with his fingers at the waistband of Will’s boxers.

“It is easier if there is no fabric in the way,” Hannibal says. “May I?”

“S’okay,” Will slurs.

Hannibal hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs the boxers down to Will’s knees, then pours some more oil into his hands. He starts at Will’s hips and slides his hands down along the sides of his ass cheeks and thighs, changing course midway to shift to the centre of each leg, and back up over Will’s buttocks.

As Hannibal begins to knead the rounded flesh, digging his fingers into the muscles, Will keens into his pillow and bucks his hips down toward the bed. When he turns his head to the side for air, he’s gasping, and Hannibal can feel a slight tremble in Will’s body. The sensation of having Will writhing beneath him is far more arousing than Hannibal could have anticipated, and he has to shift back and spread his own thighs a bit to accommodate a growing erection straining against the fabric of his cheap, cotton pajamas.

In that moment, Hannibal realizes he had fooled himself into thinking he could ever maintain a clinical distance, to help Will with his recovery. He has, of course, been aware that his  _ feelings _ for Will had grown beyond fascination with the workings of his mind. It had been a slow revelation over the years, but he did eventually come to understand that Will is  _ precious _ to him, and that he wants Will to be with him always. What he still has difficulty with is accepting the lack of control he has over all of these emotions, and wanting to lose himself in every moment they have together.

He parts his lips to wet them with his tongue, preparing to speak, but they are interrupted by the phone on the nightstand. It takes a full two rings before Hannibal is aware that in order to answer the phone, he must remove his hands from Will’s ass.

He stands up off the bed on the third ring, wiping the oil from his hands on his pajamas, cursing himself for not remembering to put a towel nearby, then answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, sir, this is the front desk calling. I’m very sorry to disturb you, but we’ve had some… complaints from a few guests about the noise--”

“Yes, of course, my deepest apologies,” Hannibal interrupts, making no attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice. “It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

He hangs up and looks at Will, irritated. He’s more annoyed at the phone call than Will, but he doesn’t clarify to Will out loud. “It would appear that our precautions to avoid disturbing other guests have been insufficient.”

Will’s flush turns him pink from his face and ears to his chest, and he gets up to his knees so he can pull up his boxers in a swift motion - but not so swift that Hannibal doesn’t catch a glimpse of Will’s half-hard cock. Every single thing Hannibal has ever felt toward Will transforms in that moment, with a myriad of possibilities flying to the forefront of his mind. As they each retire to their separate beds, he’s formulating different ways to approach the next massage, to get the result he wants. And he knows there will be an opportunity for another.

After several minutes of silence, Hannibal speaks into the darkness: “We may have to look into more effective ways to silence you than a pillow,” but Will either ignores him or is already asleep.


	3. I Want You Do You Want Me Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal try again. I think it's obvious to them both that it's not really about the massage anymore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap guys, I can't believe how many people are enjoying this story!! I'm so happy, all of your comments are wonderful, I've been smiling for two days straight. :)!!
> 
> I had a thought that if someone's not into German industrial music, they might like I Want You by the Beatles instead, and it could kinda work I guess?? I dunno. ENJOY THE CHAPTER. ALMOST DONE!

Somewhere in Idaho, they stop at a drugstore to replenish some supplies. Hannibal thinks it prudent to buy some more massage oil, as the bottle in his bag is almost empty. A thought grabs him just as he’s walking to the next aisle, and he drops a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms into his basket. It’s best to be prepared for anything, after all.

He meets Will at the checkout, grouping his purchases with the items Will has picked up, which appears to be primarily snacks. Hannibal watches Will from his peripheral vision as he pays, and sees Will run a finger over the cap of the massage oil, hovering over the lube and condoms, but not saying a word. No commentary one way or another, which means there’s also no refusal, so Hannibal is hopeful that he won’t need to alter his intentions for the evening.

They leave the drugstore in comfortable silence, and Hannibal is glad that it’s Will’s turn to drive, so he can devote some time to recalling the sounds Will makes while Hannibal’s hands roam over his body, and imagine drawing out some more.

Hours later, they stumble into yet another loathsome motel. There are a few cars in the parking lot, but it seems that the rooms are unoccupied for the most part, which suits them both just fine (for a number of reasons). Hannibal still procures a room with two beds, with the expectation that they may need to use the other when one has been covered in oil and sweat and semen. One can hope.

Will takes a shower first, so Hannibal busies himself with some subtle preparations, getting their few bags out of the way and hiding the lube and condoms in the drawer of the nightstand, while leaving the massage oil out on top. He changes his mind when he hears the water shut off and hides the oil as well. Will may choose to be obstinate if he sees the oil ready for use; he does seem to get an obscene amount of enjoyment in confounding or exceeding Hannibal’s expectations.

The bathroom door opens and Will emerges wearing only a towel around his waist, using another to soak up the water from his hair. “S’all yours,” he says, stepping over to his bed with no apparent desire to get dressed. Hannibal nods and goes to take his own shower, committing the sight of water droplets on bare skin to memory, anticipation buzzing through him.

*

Hannibal comes out of the bathroom wearing brown pajama pants that he was forced to purchase at a big box store. Will still hasn’t bothered to get dressed, reclining in his bed wearing the towel, reading on his tablet. He steals a brief glance at Hannibal when he hears the door open, then goes back to his tablet.

“We’re making good time,” Will says, either in a blatant attempt to ignore the tension that has developed over the last few days, or else unaware of it, which Hannibal doesn’t doubt as a possibility. “We can probably make it to Washington by the end of the week.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agrees. He goes to his own bed (rather, the bed that Will is not occupying at present) and sits, reaching for a book he left on the nightstand. He lays back and pretends to read it, waiting.

Time seems to drag on for hours, though in reality it’s only been a few minutes. Hannibal feels something like apprehension uncoil within him when Will at last sets his tablet aside and sits up with a stretch, causing an audible pop in his spine. 

Hannibal looks over at him, eyebrow raised, as Will makes a very obvious show of trying to rub his own shoulder, rolling it with an expression of exaggerated discomfort. While it’s true that Will is sore (in all likelihood for the rest of his life), Hannibal is aware that it isn’t as bad as Will would have him believe. Observation throughout the day had told Hannibal that Will is actually doing much better, in general, as he had been able to drive for longer stretches, and was able to help carry more of their bags when they had brought them in.

Not that it matters. Any excuse to touch Will again is good enough for Hannibal, and he matches Will’s performance with his own, setting his book down and looking at Will with the greatest concern.

“Did you overdo it today, Will?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Will can’t meet Hannibal’s eyes. “I, uh, I guess, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate another massage,” he says, and then adds, “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“I have no doubt that you will try,” Hannibal says with a smile, opening the nightstand drawer just enough to retrieve the massage oil. Will does not require any instruction this time, already settling onto his stomach when Hannibal moves to the other bed. Hannibal opts to position himself over Will’s legs from the start, to avoid any unnecessary strain, and pours the massage oil into his hands.

Hannibal begins with an even pressure on both of Will’s shoulder blades, taking his time to enjoy the warmth radiating from Will’s skin, sliding his hands up and over to Will’s neck, then back down again. Will keeps his face buried in his pillow, which has only a moderate effect on muffling his moans. It’s probably enough, anyhow, because Hannibal knows that there are few guests in the motel, and none of the rooms in their section of hallway are occupied.

He works over Will’s ribs and sides, causing Will to twitch beneath his fingers, then slides his hands up along the outside of Will’s arms, over his shoulders and up his neck again until he can weave his fingers into Will’s curls, using his fingers to rub gentle circles into his scalp. Will turns his head to the side and actually  _ whimpers _ , his eyebrows knitting together with his unsuccessful efforts to keep quiet. Hannibal indulges himself this way for a while, stroking more than massaging, ending each pass through Will’s hair with a light tug.

Will tires of this, however, and begins wiggling with childish impatience, which causes the towel to come undone and slide down his hips, just enough to expose the dimples at the base of his spine.

“Stop fucking around, Hannibal,” Will complains.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Will,” Hannibal says, his touch lingering in Will’s curls, and down his neck.

“Lower,” Will says.

Hannibal runs the tips of his fingers down to the middle of Will’s back, teasing feather-light touches over his ribs.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you,” Will grumbles, squishing his face into his pillow.

“It does stand to reason that if I don’t know what you’re talking about, you will have to tell me.”

Hannibal can feel Will tense beneath him and take a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before letting it all out in a dramatic exhalation, signaling that a decision has been made.

“Lower,” Will repeats, reaching back with the limited range of both arms in a pitiful attempt to move the towel down lower. He is able to get his left thumb under the edge of the towel, but he can’t quite bend it to get a hold of it. “Goddammit, Hannibal, help me out here.”

Hannibal ducks his head as he tries to suppress a laugh, shifting aside to assist Will by removing the towel and dropping it to the floor.

“Since you asked so politely,” Hannibal chuckles, obliging Will with firm hands on Will’s ass. Not too obliging, however, as Hannibal doesn’t linger and teases by sliding his hands upward to the curve of Will’s lower back, then out to grasp at Will’s waist, and Hannibal feels his cock stir with arousal at Will’s keens into the pillow. Will is arching into his touch, trying to twist his way back into Hannibal’s hands the way Will wants them, which is exactly the reaction Hannibal is hoping for. Nothing is so beautiful as the image of Will begging to be touched.

He returns to squeezing the flesh of Will’s ass with enthusiasm, gratified by the way Will continues to moan while shifting his hips to press back against Hannibal’s hands, and he dips his thumbs into the cleft of Will’s ass, spreading the cheeks just a little.

Rather than protest, Will’s moans get louder and his hands splay out to his sides, gripping the comforter on the bed as though to anchor himself. Hannibal takes a chance and reaches for the drawer, taking out the lube and taking care to pour a liberal amount into one hand before dropping the bottle onto the bed and dipping his thumbs back between Will’s cheeks. He makes sure to coat his thumbs with any excess and strokes them over Will’s hole, which twitches in response as Will cries out.    


“Haaaannibal,” Will drawls out, twisting the blanket in his fists. He’s panting, gasping between each sigh and moan, curls plastered onto his forehead, and Hannibal lets out his own soft moan in response, shivering at the sound of his name uttered with such sweet a melody from Will’s lips.

Hannibal increases the pressure against Will’s hole with one thumb, using the other to spread Will wider so Hannibal can see as the muscle flutters and gives way, welcoming him inside. The glide of his thumb is slow and deliberate, seeking the raised mound of flesh within. He crooks his thumb down and knows he finds what he seeks when Will lets out a shuddering cry, almost succeeding in bucking Hannibal off of the bed.

Just as Hannibal adjusts his grip with the intention of sliding his other hand beneath Will’s hips, a loud knock on the door startles them both.

“Son of a  _ bitch _ ,” Will gasps, collapsing forward from his arched position onto the bed. Hannibal summons up every last ounce of self-control he has left, closes his eyes and counts to ten… fifteen… whoever is on the other side of the door knocks again, and Hannibal stumbles off the bed on his way to see who is interrupting them.  _ Again _ .

Opening the door reveals a tiny blonde woman in a blazer with a nametag identifying her as an employee of the motel. Hannibal makes a point of opening the door wide enough to reveal Will, out of breath, oily and nude.

“Excuse me, uh, sir,” she says, her shoulders almost up by her ears from nervous tension, failing at averting her eyes in spectacular fashion. “I’m so sorry, but we’ve--”

“Yes, I understand,” Hannibal bristles. “You won’t hear from us again, good night.”

With that, he slams the door in her face, whirling around to glare at Will. As before, he’s not upset with  _ Will _ in particular, but Hannibal can’t really bring himself to care if Will is concerned about it. All he can think about is how close he was to  _ really feeling _ Will against him, to being able to wrap himself around Will’s body and lose himself in it.

Will regards Hannibal with a wary eye from where he still lays, trying to catch his breath, resting his cheek on his folded arm. “Please don’t kill the motel staff, Hannibal.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Will,” Hannibal says, able to keep most of the disappointment from his tone. “We are still hiding from Uncle Jack, it wouldn’t do to send him any postcards.”

Will sighs and rolls his eyes, muttering something about this being his life now and he just had to let it go, and works his way under the covers, perhaps too aware that continuing where they left off is a blatant admission about what they were doing. Hannibal tries to regulate his own breathing and starts for the other bed, prepared for another disappointing night until their next stop. The bed creaks under Hannibal’s weight, and his hand hovers over the lamp switch when he hears Will speak.

“These beds are big enough for two, you know,” he says with a trace of hesitation.

Hannibal doesn’t reply as flicks off the light, but the bed creaks again as he stands and the mattress of Will’s bed dips when he settles in beside Will on the left side, since Will has shuffled to the right. Will doesn’t change his mind. 

Will is facing away from him, and Hannibal makes no attempt to move closer lest it makes Will uncomfortable, content to let the smell and heat of Will to surround him and fill his thoughts, committing every nuance to memory. He is surprised to feel Will ease back against him, and Hannibal doesn’t care at all that Will’s skin is still sticky and damp from sweat and massage oil and lube.

The night is a little less disappointing when Hannibal can fall asleep with Will in his arms.


	4. I Want You There Is No Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will take a break from traveling and find a more secluded space...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to post the last chapter, so here it is, lol. Please let me know what y'all think ehehehe...

Hannibal is losing patience.

Waking up with Will in his arms is almost as good as holding onto someone else while Will guts them, but neither would be significant had they been able to finish what they started last night. He didn’t expect that the feelings between them would develop in the direction they have, at least not so soon, but now Hannibal is not finding it so easy to let things play out as they will. Some orchestration is necessary.

Will doesn’t stir when Hannibal gets up, and he doesn’t try to wake him. Instead, he goes into his bag to fetch his own tablet so he can do a little research for their trip.  _ Amusing _ as it was, he will  _ not _ abide another colossal failure like last night. He finds what he is looking for, and sneaks out of the room.

*

Neither Will nor Hannibal seem interested in driving for very long, and Hannibal likes to believe that it’s because both of them are unwilling to spend hours on the road with all the pent up frustration still jumping between them like an electric current. In fact, it’s Will who suggests they stop again for the night, even though they hadn’t gotten all that far on the road. Naturally, Hannibal has to make a performance of telling Will it’s not a good idea to tempt fate and stop again so soon, and Will indulges him by making some convincing arguments.

So, after putting less than eight hours of distance between them and the last motel, they are carrying their bags into a cabin somewhere in Oregon, much to Will’s surprise. It’s not in the middle of nowhere, but it’s remote enough that Hannibal believes that it is impossible to disturb anyone, except perhaps some innocent woodland creatures.

Hannibal takes a moment to appreciate his own cleverness as he puts their few groceries in the fridge provided, thinking about the item he had procured that morning before Will had woken up. And the fact that he had managed to be the one driving for the second half of the day and so was able to direct their route toward the cabin Hannibal had already rented.

This evening, everything would go according to plan, of that Hannibal is certain.

When they are more or less settled, Hannibal makes them a light dinner in the kitchenette, which is a nice change from the take out they have been subsisting on so far, and the general mood is far more relaxed than it had been since… well, a very long time. Years, perhaps.

From the moment they arrived, Will had been sporting the most charming blush, which of course meant that Will had to have an idea as to why they had forgone the usual motel room. Hannibal grins each time he draws attention to Will’s colour, as it only serves to deepen the flush when Will tries to explain it away for one reason or another, and it spreads over Will’s chest, making Hannibal want to unbutton Will’s shirt to see how far down it goes. Pride in his self-control helps him resist.

After dinner, they enjoy a glass of wine in the small living area. Will’s flush is more subdued, but he keeps casting nervous glances at Hannibal from his seat on the couch. Hannibal elects to sit in the easy chair to Will’s right, with the purpose of being able to watch Will fidget and drink his wine far too quickly. Hannibal, on the other hand, is the very image of serenity, despite not feeling the least bit serene.

It is fortunate for them both that it doesn’t take long for Will to crack.

“You’re good at those, uh, massages,” Will stammers, setting his wine glass on the side table between them. His eyes are focused on Hannibal’s hands.

Hannibal hums his agreement. “I was a doctor, you may recall, so I did feel it necessary to take an interest in acquiring a number of skills that could be used for healing.”

“Right,” Will huffs out an awkward laugh on a heavy exhale. “Well, I think it’s been helping, so. Thanks.”

It’s impossible not to chuckle at Will’s fumbling attempts to ask for something without really asking. The temptation to draw it out a little longer pulls at the edge of Hannibal’s thoughts, but his baser instincts win out this time; they have time enough to discover new ways to make Will blush and stammer some more another day. Hannibal sets his own glass down and stands, holding his hand out to Will.

“Come, I have prepared the bedroom.”

Will takes his hand, eyes blinking wide with flustered surprise, but he pulls himself up and stumbles forward, knocking his shoulder against Hannibal’s. “Ah, um.  _ The _ bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“There’s only one?”

“I assumed you had noticed by now, but yes.”

“I didn’t… really look,” Will casts his eyes down at their feet as his flush returns in full, delightful force. He takes a deep breath in through his nose. “Okay,” he says at length, curling his fingers tighter around Hannibal’s.

Hannibal leads him to the bedroom and lets go of his hand as he gestures to the bed, which is covered in towels, and Will’s gaze catches on the bottles of massage oil and lube, and the box of condoms, already on the night stand. Will strips all of his clothing without prompting, and lays down on his stomach, shivering with anticipation. Hannibal licks his lips, taking in the sight of Will so pliant and willing, sending a tremor of pleasure straight to Hannibal’s cock. He steps toward the bed.

“Before we begin, there are some minor preparations,” Hannibal announces as he takes the pillow Will isn’t using and nudges Will’s side for him to angle up so Hannibal can arrange the pillow beneath Will’s hips. Hannibal opens the nightstand drawer and reaches in to retrieve the item that he has been on his mind for most of the day: a ball gag.

Will’s jaw drops open. “Where the h-hell did you get that?”

“Where one normally procures such items, Will,” Hannibal smiles, with great composure.

“ _ When _ ?”

“This morning, of course.”

“Are there… sex shops open that early in the morning?” Will rolls onto his side to frown at Hannibal, but Hannibal lays a hand on Will’s shoulder and gives him a gentle shove back onto his stomach.

“No. There will be no more questions, Will,” Hannibal strokes Will’s head, crouching beside the bed to get to eye-level. “I will not endure any more interruptions, and though I have deliberately chosen a rather remote location, I still don’t want to take any chances. Is this acceptable?”

Will nods, looking at the ball gag.

“You will not be able to speak clearly, so if you are uncomfortable or wish to stop at any time, I am going to give you my pocket knife so you can drop it as a signal. All right?”

Will nods again, and watches Hannibal press the knife in question into his hand (folded, of course). Will’s eyes get heavy lidded as he lets out a soft sigh when Hannibal tightens his fingers into Will’s hair and gives a gentle tug to angle his head back, inserting the ball gag into Will’s mouth. Hannibal brushes his fingers over Will’s cheeks as he takes the straps of the ball gag to fasten it at the back of Will’s head, leaning in to press his lips into Will’s hair, inhaling the heady scent of drugstore shampoo and sweat.

Hannibal can hear Will gasp around the gag when he releases Will’s hair, allowing his head to drop to the pillow. He straightens and removes his own clothes, figuring they’re past the point of negotiating such boundaries, folding and setting them on a nearby dresser, then grabs the massage oil upon his return to the bed, kneeling on the mattress at Will’s left side.

There’s no reason to be stingy with the oil now, so Hannibal pours quite a bit into his hand, allowing it a moment to warm up before spreading it from Will’s shoulders down the length of his entire body. His strokes up and down the back of Will’s legs, using the motion to nudge Will’s thighs apart, easing the pressure of his fingers as he approaches the more sensitive flesh behind Will’s testicles.

The gag doesn’t do much to mute Will’s vocalizing, but it seems to be more difficult for him to let out the long, drawn out moans that Hannibal has come to know, as the ball makes it difficult to breathe properly through his mouth. Instead, Will is grunting and panting in short bursts, shuddering at Hannibal’s touch as though torn between wanting to move away or beg for more.

Hannibal slides his left hand up to the base of Will’s spine while the other lingers down under Will’s balls, cupping them onto the pads of his fingers as he presses them against Will’s perineum with tender care. Will manages a strangled “Hnnnggh!” as he bucks his hips downward, grinding himself against the bed.

Any pretense of an actual massage is long forgotten, the purpose of Hannibal’s touch less about healing so much as the shameless fondling of Will’s body. With his left hand flat, palm facing up, Hannibal reaches under Will to slide down his belly and abdomen until he reaches Will’s cock. Though Hannibal is not surprised to find it thickened with arousal, it’s still gratifying to get confirmation of the fact, and he entertains himself with a few slow strokes before nudging Will’s cock lower, so that it points down between Will’s thighs for easier access.

Releasing Will’s balls, Hannibal grasps Will’s cock with his right hand, starting at the base and stroking down to the end, tightening his grip just a little when he feels the ridge of the cockhead against his palm. With his other hand, he reaches for the lube and uncaps the bottle, tilting it to rest at the top of Will’s ass so that a liberal amount spills down between his cheeks. He sets aside the bottle and eases his fingers between the mounds of flesh to spread the lube around, coating his own fingers and rubbing against Will’s hole.

“Uhhh gahhh,” Will cries out, followed by a slurping sound as he gasps for more air, saliva dribbling down his chin. He tries to push back onto Hannibal’s fingers, but Hannibal responds by pulling his fingers away.

“Patience, my dear boy,” Hannibal rasps, his right hand still stroking Will’s cock at a slow, even pace. “I need you to relax and let me take care of you, can you do that?”

Will squeezes his eyes shut and nods, his hand clenching tighter around the knife while he fights to get the rest of his body to relax.

“Good,” Hannibal says, and he resumes rubbing his fingers against Will’s hole, dipping the tip of one inside with surprising ease as Will struggles to keep still, keening with the effort.

As soon as Hannibal is able to get his finger all the way in without resistance, he begins to pump it in and out to match the rhythm of his hand on Will’s cock, deliberate and unhurried. When he feels Will let go of all the remaining tension in his body at last, Hannibal pushes a second finger in and twists, seeking out Will’s prostate.

Finding it is easy, and Hannibal puts just the slightest pressure against it as he rubs back and forth, and Will convulses with a stuttering moan as his cock leaks copious amounts of fluid into Hannibal’s hand.

Having been content to focus on Will until now, Hannibal is struck by the aching throb in his own erection, and though he is curious to see how long he can drag out Will’s pleasure before he would drop the knife -  _ if _ he would drop the knife, he is now very interested in taking his own pleasure as well.

He indulges himself with a few more strokes inside of Will with his fingers, and over his cock, then pulls away, earning a grunt of protest.

“Hush, Will, I am only moving.”

Bracing himself with one hand at Will’s waist, he lifts one leg over to straddle Will as he had before, inching himself forward over the back of Will’s thighs until his hips are nestled right below the curve of Will’s ass, allowing Hannibal to rub his erection along the cleft of Will’s ass. They moan in unison at the contact, so long denied to them.

“Ohhh fuuuhhhh,” Will shouts around the gag and gives an involuntary buck of his hips, inciting Hannibal to grip harder and thrust forward, creating a friction between them that is exhilarating, and all the frustration that had wound up in Hannibal over the last few days just ebbs away into nothing, replaced by the dizzy sensation of Will’s skin and sounds and scent.

It’s so good, incredible, and Will’s arching back into Hannibal’s touch, his hips up off the bed, and this time Hannibal doesn’t pull away. Will is shouting obscenities (as much as he can, anyway), and Hannibal lets out a low moan as he brings one hand up to position his cock at Will’s entrance, pausing only to roll on a condom and apply more lube. He anchors his other hand on Will’s hip and pushes forward as Will pushes back, and Hannibal can’t help the whimper that escapes his lips when he feels the head of his own cock breaching the ring of muscle, squeezing and relaxing around him.

He takes his time working his way deeper, thrilling at each trembling sigh Will makes around the gag, and he bends forward to press his chest against Will’s back, keeping one hand on Will’s hip while the other skims upward along Will’s side as he leans on his elbow. His hand travels higher along Will’s arm and shoulder, fingertips tracing teasing lines along Will’s neck, then to his head, petting through the curls now damp with sweat, whispering soothing praise against the shell of Will’s ear.

Will grunts with some force as he wiggles beneath Hannibal, which Hannibal takes to be a request to get on with it, and so he pushes the rest of the way in, tormenting them both with a few slow undulations of his hips. When he feels Will arching his hips back to meet every thrust, Hannibal assumes he is accustomed to the intrusion, and Hannibal cries out as he increases his pace, spurred on by the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh, blending with their voices filling the room.

After so much anticipation and teasing over so many days ( _ years _ ), it doesn’t take long for Hannibal to come, his hips snapping forward with each spasm of release. He’s shaking, but he still reaches down between them, maneuvering in a way so he doesn’t have to pull out quite yet, to wrap his hand around Will’s cock and pump it with quick, firm strokes until Will is spilling his own release into Hannibal’s hand and over the towels.

They both collapse in a heap, panting and gasping and sweating, and Hannibal is tentative as he pulls out and removes the condom, tying it off and tossing it into a waste basket next to the bed. He rolls onto his side and ruffles Will’s hair, plastered over his forehead with sweat, before unfastening the ball gag with deft fingers and removing it from Will’s mouth with a wet pop, dropping it onto the nightstand.

Will turns his head to look at Hannibal, flexing his jaw with some discomfort as Hannibal tries to take the folded knife back, but Will hides his hand under his pillow. Hannibal chuckles, using the corner of a towel to wipe the drool from around Will’s mouth and chin, at least.

The sight of Will, postcoital and in bed with Hannibal, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips, eyes hazy and lashes wet from tears, makes Hannibal feel like he’s been punched in the gut, and he raises a trembling hand to rest on Will’s cheek.

“We’re not going to be very well rested for the morning,” Will muses with a raspy voice, watching Hannibal as his hand drifts up to stroke through Will’s curls, Hannibal’s eyes gleaming with sated fondness.

“It’s no matter, we don’t have to be anywhere in the morning,” Hannibal replies, tracing a finger down the centre of Will’s face, tapping on the end of his nose.

Will opens his mouth to speak, a frown tugging just at the edges of his features. “We still have a bit of driving to do, not to mention getting a boat. Shouldn’t we get an early start?”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. “But it won’t be tomorrow.”

Will continues to look confused, turning on his side to face Hannibal fully, apparently not wanting Hannibal to be the only one running his hands all over someone’s body. Well, one hand, as he is still unwilling to release the knife. Hannibal lets out a contented sigh when he feels Will’s hand upon him, roaming over his chest and arms, coming to rest at Hannibal’s collarbone.

“People don’t rent cabins just for one night, Will,” Hannibal explains, drawing patterns over the back of Will’s hand with his fingers, and Will’s eyes widen with understanding, teasing his own fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair. “We have this little paradise to ourselves for a week.”

  
“Oh,” Will whispers, leaning in closer to brush his lips over Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal obliges, tilting his head up to give Will better access as he slides his hands down to grab Will’s ass to pull him closer. He swallows Will’s moan with a deep kiss, and pulls him up and over to so that Will is stretched out on top of him. Will pulls back long enough to grin and say: “I don’t remember agreeing to that,” then dives back in to lose himself in Hannibal’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say how much I love you all for all the feedback, I can't believe how much this story exploded! I've been going back and reading everyone's comments over and over like the giant nerd I am, and it's truly been amazing!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always for kudos and comments! It never gets old! It's never boring! I love reading every word, or seeing a new kudos on any of my fics!
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as [chronicopheliac](http://chronicopheliac.tumblr.com)!


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